


Me Prometiste

by amethystfox



Series: The Adventures of Captain Hugo [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, BDSM, Biting, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Dominant Hugo, Except with a bit of fluff, Face Slapping, Flogging, Light Bondage, M/M, Spanking, Tottenham Hotspur FC - Freeform, submissive Paulo, the opposite of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystfox/pseuds/amethystfox
Summary: Hugo Lloris is normally a sweet, gentle man, soft-spoken, with dark, soulful eyes. But on the pitch, he puts that all aside and becomes Captain Hugo-- stern, imposing, occasionally shouty, not afraid to throw down.On October 1, 2019, Tottenham Hotspur played Bayern Munich at home. It did not go well. At all. Captain Hugo is furious and humiliated...
Relationships: Paulo Gazzaniga/Hugo Lloris
Series: The Adventures of Captain Hugo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656682
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	Me Prometiste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ayerlind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayerlind/gifts).



> This story is 100% [ayerlind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayerlind/pseuds/ayerlind)'s fault. They were the one to come up with the idea of subby Paulo. I think I came up with pairing him with angry Captain Hugo, but then they had the brilliant thought of exploring what would have happened after this shitshow of a match. 
> 
> You're a terrible influence! I love you. I absolutely could not have written this without your inspiration, your feedback, your help with research. Thank you times a billion 💜💜💜
> 
> As with my other Spursfics, I've used a fair amount of non-English dialogue, with the translations listed at the end.

1 October 2019  
North London

Paulo squirmed in his seat as the ball sailed into the net again, just beyond Hugo's outstretched arms. His place on the bench was too far from their goal for him to be able to really see, but he could easily envision the look on the Frenchman's face just then-- the hardened jaw, the brow lowered like a thundercloud, cheekbones sharp as knives, the large eyes cold and hard as flint. Hugo angry was a fairly rare sight, but one that never failed to both captivate and terrify Paulo.

He knew he should care more about the horrific thrashing his club was taking today, but he was far too riveted by Hugo to care. Even at this distance, the captain had Paulo completely in thrall.

He was aware that the crowds were booing. He guessed that the others in the box with him were probably talking, maybe even to him. He couldn't hear any of it. The only thing Paulo could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, and the memory of Hugo's raised voice. He squirmed in his seat, wishing he could get up and pace, or do _something,_ but the massive erection he had been sporting for most of the second half kept him in his seat. Every time he started to get caught up following the action on the field, he would catch sight of Hugo, in that distinctive teal kit, and everything else would vanish.

The remainder of the game was, if anything, worse. By the end of it, Hugo had conceded a whopping seven goals, making this the biggest loss for Spurs in something like twenty years. Paulo couldn't imagine how that must feel; he personally hated conceding even a single goal, and for Hugo, the World Cup winning captain who prided himself on keeping clean sheets, the humiliation was surely almost more than could be borne.

Paulo's sympathy was somewhat dampened, however, by the thought of what it would take for Hugo to regain his equilibrium. Lust and fear had hold of him in equal measure by the time the final whistle sounded. He had a feeling that even if the memory of this game faded with time, he would never be able to forget what was sure to follow tonight.

***

Hugo swept past every single person who tried to speak to him as he exited the field. He could not possibly compose himself enough to deal with Pochettino at the moment, let alone the press. There was only one person whose presence he could conceivably stomach right now, and he knew exactly where he would find him.

He went through the motions of showering and dressing without registering a single detail of what he was doing. He was struggling to fight the urge to scream and pound his fists on the walls, perhaps break something. It was too much. Tonight's match had been the worst performance of his career, the club's worst home defeat in more than a century. He couldn't handle it, he had to get out of here, he had to get to Paulo.

A twinge of guilt ran up his spine as he made his way out to the waiting hired car and thought about what he was going to do to Paulo tonight. After all, nothing about what had happened was his fault, and Hugo was aware just how unfair it would be to take it out on the gorgeous Argentinian. But right now, his veins still flooded with adrenaline, he couldn't bring himself to care. 

_He knows exactly what he's gotten himself into. He's a grown man, he makes his own decisions. And if it ever came down to it, he could probably stop me if he had to._

The thought of Paulo putting up a fight made him growl and clench his fists. Hugo was a tall man, able to physically face down almost any challenge; one of the things Hugo loved most about his arrangement with Paulo was the thrill of exerting his will over one of the few people he knew who was even bigger than he was. 

He saw the driver flinch slightly when he growled, and he pressed his lips together tightly. He knew that any reaction the driver picked up on would be attributed to the loss, but he still couldn't risk giving away anything about his plans for the rest of the night.

Luckily it wasn't a long trip from the stadium back to his house. As the driver pulled up out front, he was pleased to note that Paulo's car was nowhere in sight. _Good boy,_ he thought.

He slipped inside without a glance back at the car pulling away and locked the door behind him. He wanted to go straight to the bedroom, but there was something delicious about letting the anticipation build. He took his time to hang his keys neatly on their hook, to slip off his trainers and line them neatly up on the shoe rack, to stow his matchday bag in the laundry room to sort out later. He fed his cats their dinner and spent some time stroking their soft, beautiful fur, his mind full of what was waiting for him.

Finally he was ready. At the door to his bedroom he paused, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, wanting to savour his first glimpse of what lay beyond.

He heard a sharp intake of breath as he opened the door, sending a shiver through him. Hugo closed the door behind him, stepped forward, and opened his eyes.

The room was gently lit, with the recessed lamps over the bed dimmed, candles burning on the bureau, the windowsills, and the bedside tables. Normally there would be soft music playing as well, but Hugo was pleased to note that it had been foregone tonight. Silence was more fitting for what lay ahead.

Paulo Gazzaniga was kneeling in the center of the room, just at the foot of the bed. He was naked and had his eyes downcast, hands behind his back. He kept absolutely still as Hugo approached him. He seemed to glow in the soft lighting, erect and absolutely beautiful.

Hugo stopped in front of him, regarding the younger man on his knees. Any other night, he would be full of praise for him, for how lovely he was like this, how perfectly obedient he was. Hugo loved to praise him, to see how he positively bloomed under his hand.

But not tonight. Tonight was not about Paulo.

Hugo reached out to him, cupping his cheek for a brief moment, then letting his hand drop. He slowly circled around behind Paulo, letting the silence draw out, the tension build.

He was studying the lines of Paulo's back, absorbed in trying to spot any remaining traces of their last session, when he noticed that Paulo's fingers were trembling. Barely, almost invisibly, but Hugo's keen eyes caught it all the same. He wanted to ask Paulo if he was afraid, but he didn't know what would happen if he tried to speak right now. Instead, he reached out and caught a handful of Paulo's hair, his soft, fluffy black hair, and roughly jerked his head towards him. He bent down, enjoying the slow exhale of breath from Paulo, who always loved having his hair pulled.

Hugo gritted his teeth as he brought his mouth to Paulo's ear, trying to keep himself from losing control and sinking his teeth into that beautifully smooth skin right off the bat. Instead, he managed to get out a harsh whisper. 

_"Écoutes,"_ he snarled, and Paulo gave a confused little whine. Dimly, he remembered that if Paulo was to have any chance of understanding him he would probably need to summon the words in English.

"I'm only going to warn you once," he grated. "I'm going to hurt you tonight."

Paulo took a deep breath, exhaled excruciatingly slowly, inhaled again. "Good," he whispered.

***

Paulo had fled the stadium almost before the final whistle, not bothering to stop by the changing room, eager to avoid getting caught by anyone on his way out. He would commiserate with the team tomorrow. Likely the press wouldn't even miss him in their rush for post-match interviews; he was only ever pulled for them when he had actually played.

He tried to avoid speeding on his way to Hugo's house, but it was difficult. Every time he was forced to stop at a traffic signal he swore, twisting his hands around the steering wheel. 

Paulo had to admit to himself that he was more than a little nervous about tonight. He and Hugo had been doing this long enough for him to fully trust his captain, but he had also never seen him quite _this_ angry before.

It would be good, he knew that beyond a doubt, and full of the intensity that both of them craved. He wasn't exactly afraid of the pain, either, and yet… Hugo's dark side scared him nonetheless. It was something indefinable, something about seeing those beautiful, soulful eyes gone cold and empty that frightened him. And yet he couldn't have stayed away from him if he wanted to, not tonight. 

He took care to park a good block away from Hugo's house. He pulled up his hood as he slid out of his car, tugging his snood up to cover his mouth against the crispness of the evening-- though admittedly he was more concerned with being recognised than with the cold.

Eagerness sped his steps up to Hugo's back door, where he let himself in quickly. He patted both of Hugo's cats gently when they greeted him at the door, but he was far too preoccupied to pay them much attention. 

Paulo had to fight to keep his hands from trembling as he went about his preparations, especially when lighting the candles. An accident there would be the very last thing Hugo needed at this point.

Finally, everything was ready, even to his critical eye. He scrambled hastily out of his clothes, folding them neatly and piling them out of sight under Hugo's reading chair in the corner. He always felt so anxious about this, the race to beat Hugo home, to be waiting for him. Especially tonight. It was always a scramble, not knowing how long Hugo would take to shower, if he would stop to talk to the media. He had a feeling he would have less time than usual tonight.

Finally he sank onto his knees in his usual place, ready to wait in silence and stillness until his captain arrived.

Sure enough, it was only a couple of minutes later that he heard the front door open and shut. Hugo was clearly taking his time, though, not rushing immediately to where he knew Paulo would be waiting for him. That did help Paulo feel a little less anxious. Whatever was about to happen, he felt safe in the knowledge that ultimately Hugo would be in control.

It took all of Paulo's discipline to not react when Hugo finally came into the room. He heard the soft click of the door, the quiet footsteps moving towards him, but somehow he managed to keep his eyes averted. Hugo touching his face was a surprise, but not a big one; even in his rages, Hugo was always sensitive to the connection they shared. He was never going to be the sort of Dom who would dive right in to the most intense moments, which was part of why Paulo loved him so much.

There was a lengthy pause after Hugo withdrew his hand. He could sense, without looking, that Hugo had moved around behind him, but he had no idea exactly where he was or what he was doing, until suddenly Hugo seized him by the hair. Paulo had to fight off a moan as his head was pulled in close to Hugo. He could feel Hugo's breath on his ear and he shivered.

 _"Écoutes."_

Paulo whimpered at the sound of Hugo's voice, not sure what the captain was saying.

"I'm only going to warn you once." Hugo remembered to speak English this time, but his voice was strained, as if he were speaking through clenched teeth, trying not to scream. "I'm going to hurt you tonight."

Paulo shivered and took a couple of deep breaths before he dared to reply.

"Good."

Almost as soon as the word had left his mouth, Hugo brought a hand down across his ass, connecting with much more force than usual. Paulo gasped and jolted forward, steadying himself against the bed with one hand. The initial flash of pain was almost instantly replaced by an intense rush of pleasure, radiating through his entire body from the point of impact. He felt as though he were on fire.

"Safeword?"

"W-wahlberg," Paulo managed, his voice shaky.

A soft grunt was his only answer to that before another slap connected, on the other side of his ass this time. Paulo let out a moan this time, fighting hard to keep still.

Suddenly Hugo yanked at his hair again, pulling him up to his feet, but not lifting his hand up high enough for Paulo to be able to straighten up fully. Hugo twisted him around to face him, bringing their mouths crashing together in a brief, searing kiss. Another flare of pain blossomed in Paulo's mouth, but he was falling onto the bed before he could even register that Hugo had bitten him.

Hugo's hands were on him now, roughly forcing him to lay face down on the bed, spread-eagled. He was trembling with the effort of keeping still, desperate to look at Hugo but not daring to try.

He heard rustling sounds, a faint _zip_ , the opening and closing of a drawer. He badly wanted to know what was happening, if Hugo had taken off his clothes, but he forced himself to wait. With Hugo, patience and self-discipline always paid off handsomely.

 _"Putain,"_ he heard Hugo mutter. They had been together long enough for Paulo to understand that. _Fuck._

A _swish_ was his only warning before the next impact came. He let out another moan as it connected across his back. Definitely not a hand. He had a feeling that Hugo had brought out his favourite suede flogger.

 _Swish._ The flogger connected again with a sharp _crack._ Over the pounding of his heart, Paulo could just make out Hugo snarling in French.

 _"Comment pourrais-je être si stupide putain?"_ The flogger fell again, and again. To Paulo's surprise, Hugo was methodically going through a fairly normal sequence for them, perhaps going a little bit harder, a little bit faster than usual, but nothing extraordinary. The rage was still in Hugo's voice, but Paulo could tell that he wasn't really letting it out, not enough to provide any kind of catharsis.

 _"Comment puis-je être si putain d'inutile!"_ Hugo's voice rose to a scream, but the flogger still connected with a very controlled motion.

Paulo squirmed. He was enjoying this on a physical level, but it just didn't feel right. He needed to find a way to force Hugo to let go.

***

Hugo paused to take a breath and survey his work. Paulo's back was flushed a lovely bright red, and he was sighing and moaning much as he ever did. He _was_ writhing a little bit more than normal, though. Was Hugo being too rough?

He had never been comfortable completely letting himself go when he was with Paulo; he felt that the risk of hurting him was too great. Admittedly the other man had told him on more than one occasion that he wanted to try going further than they had so far, but Hugo worried. He knew that Paulo was probably right-- the Argentinian was younger and stronger than he was, after all-- but Hugo loved him too much to risk it.

Suddenly Paulo rolled over and sat up. Hugo was so startled that the flogger fell from his fingers. Paulo was normally almost a perfect submissive. Hugo couldn't remember the last time he had so flagrantly gone against their established rules.

 _"Qu'est ce que tu crois faire?"_ he snapped. _"Allonge-toi, maintenant."_ He was vaguely aware that he was speaking in French, which Paulo couldn't be expected to follow much of, but the anger boiling under the surface made it impossible for him to think in English, let alone speak.

 _"Lo siento, Capitán,"_ Paulo said softly, his eyes still averted.

Hugo bent to pick up the flogger, but was stopped by Paulo's big hand circling his wrist. He twisted his arm indignantly, glaring, but Paulo held on, his long fingers clutching tightly at Hugo.

 _"Por favor, no,"_ Paulo whispered, tentatively lifting his eyes to meet Hugo's.

 _"Pourquoi pas?"_ Hugo demanded, fighting off the temptation to get lost in the beautiful colour of Paulo's eyes. _"Comment oses-tu?"_

_"Capitán, por favor… quiero… solo con tus manos?"_

Hugo blinked. Paulo was asking him to use only his hands?

 _"Êtes-tu sûr?"_ he asked doubtfully.

 _"Prometiste lastimarme, sí o no?"_ Hugo wasn't entirely sure what Paulo had said, but he very clearly understood the insolence, the challenge, in his voice. He could feel the anger rising in him again. 

_"Si c'est ce que tu veux, c'est bien,"_ he snapped, bringing his free hand up and across, slapping Paulo sharply across the face. He was too enraged to really register Paulo's reaction, but he did let go of Hugo's arm, falling back on the bed.

Hugo fell on him, growling incoherently. He grabbed hold of Paulo's wrist and twisted it roughly, bending his arm behind his back, forcing him back onto his stomach. He slammed a fist into the meat of Paulo's thigh, then again, on the other side this time, dimly remembering to at least confine his blows to the heaviest muscle groupings, safely away from any internal organs.

Paulo cried out, his eyes closed, head arching back towards Hugo, who lunged forward and latched onto his neck with his mouth, sucking vicious bruises into the skin. He thrust his hips up against Paulo, digging his cock hard against the soft flesh of his ass. He suddenly didn't care about anything except hurting Paulo as much as he could without inflicting any serious damage.

Paulo moaned and pushed back against him eagerly. Hugo brought a hand down hard against his ass, grabbing a handful of flesh and squeezing tightly, digging his fingers in. He moved down from Paulo's neck to his shoulder and sank his teeth into the smooth skin there. Paulo whimpered and squirmed underneath him.

"Hugo," he breathed. _"Por favor…"_

Hugo pushed himself up and off of Paulo, shoving him down into the bed, reaching over into the drawer of his bedside table. _"Voulais-tu quelque chose?_ Hmm?"

 _"Sí…_ please…"

Hugo reached out and seized Paulo's right wrist, slipping the leather cuff over it and quickly securing it to the corner bedpost. Then he grabbed hold of Paulo's hair again, pulling his head up off the bed. He leaned forward and tucked his chin over Paulo's shoulder, pressing his cheek against Paulo's. _"Dis moi ce que tu veux,"_ he growled. With his free hand he worked open the cap on the little bottle of lube he had retrieved and squeezed a bit onto his fingers.

 _"Follame, por favor, por favor,_ Hugo, _por favor, lastimarme, follame…"_

Hugo twisted Paulo's head toward him and kissed him hungrily, working his slicked up fingers down into the crease of his ass, driving straight in with little preamble.

Paulo whined pitifully as Hugo's finger penetrated him deep. He worked it in and out a few times, then quickly added another finger, grunting with satisfaction at the additional whimpers this drew. He trailed his lips down Paulo's neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth every few inches. He traced the reddened bite mark he had left on Paulo's shoulder earlier with his tongue, then sucked a fresh bruise immediately below it. 

He continued across Paulo's shoulders and down his arms, covering them in bruises and bites, while continuing to work him open with his fingers.

Abruptly he pulled back, withdrawing his fingers. Whether Paulo was ready or not, Hugo couldn't wait anymore.

***

Paulo gasped when Hugo took his fingers away, leaving him aching and empty. His skin was on fire, bruises throbbing on his neck, shoulders, arms, and legs. His back and ass were glowing from the spanking and flogging, and his right wrist was chafing from the leather cuff. His cheek was still stinging from where Hugo had slapped him, and in a couple of places, Paulo thought that Hugo may have bitten him hard enough to have broken the skin.

He felt Hugo's hands pulling on his hips, drawing him up and onto his knees. He had to scramble a bit to get his left hand underneath himself to support his weight. 

Hugo knocked his legs apart with one of his knees and moved into position. Paulo drew in a shuddering breath, savouring the anticipation of what he hoped was coming next.

Sure enough, Hugo grabbed one of his hips, digging his fingers into his flesh, and then Hugo was pushing into him, not slowly, not gently, almost savagely. He settled both hands on Paulo's hips now and began fucking him, hard and fast, not bothering to give him time to adjust to the burn.

Paulo let out a strangled moan as pleasure and pain fought for supremacy inside him. Hugo was snarling in mostly unintelligible French, a constant growling stream from which Paulo could really only distinguish the words for _fuck_ and _hate._ Paulo, on the other hand, couldn't have produced a coherent word in any language at all.

Tears spilled across Paulo's face now as he rocked back against Hugo, desperate for him, wishing it would stop, wishing it would never end. He bit down on his own lip, trying to keep the sobs in. He knew this couldn't last, so he hung on, willing himself to give in to it, knowing he would. He always did.

After another agonising minute, his tears changed to ones of relief as the pain melted away from him, leaving only the utter pleasure he felt every time Hugo was inside him. Every stroke now was hitting home on that sweet spot inside him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

A hoarse scream tore itself from his throat as his release poured from him in waves, his body trembling around Hugo, trying to hold him in place, to keep them together, not wanting them to be separated ever again. His eyes rolled back in his head as he came, his face sagging down against the pillows. He couldn't hear Hugo's voice anymore, although he was sure that his captain was still spitting venom in French. 

He felt rather than heard Hugo's deep groan as he pushed into Paulo one final time, his entire body shaking as he emptied himself inside of Paulo.

Paulo collapsed against the bed the instant Hugo released his hold on his hips, not caring about the mess he had made. He didn't even notice when Hugo released his wrist from the cuff. He lay panting, shaking, his eyes closed, lost in the depths Hugo had pushed him to.

***

Hugo came down slowly, opening his eyes gradually, letting them readjust to the dim light after having been closed for several minutes. He uncuffed Paulo and lay down beside him gingerly, noting how limply he was sprawled out. He would need to take extra care with his beautiful submissive tonight, after what they had just gone through.

Carefully he rolled Paulo onto his side, quietly checking his breathing and pulse, just to be sure.

"Paulo," he whispered, gently brushing sweaty hair back from his lover's forehead, stroking his tear-streaked face. "My Paulo."

Paulo opened his pale blue-green eyes slowly. They were cloudy and unfocused, blinking slowly at Hugo without actually seeing him.

Hugo kissed him tenderly, stroking his hair, tracing every line of his sweet face with a fingertip. "Thank you, _cariño._ Thank you."

Paulo smiled weakly at him, unable to say or do anything else.

Hugo spent several minutes like that, kissing Paulo, whispering to him, telling him how much he loved him, how well he had done, how grateful Hugo was. Only when Paulo's eyes were closed again, with a blissful smile on his face, did Hugo slip from the bed to retrieve a damp washcloth to clean them up a bit. He took a moment in the bathroom to retrieve the other things he needed, glad that he had opted to keep everything close at hand.

Once he had cleaned them both up a bit, he carefully moved Paulo off of the towel that was always laid down on his bed when Hugo expected to have Paulo over, bundling it up with the washcloth and tossing both in his laundry hamper.

"Paulo," he murmured softly, waiting for those amazing eyes to open again. "I have your socks and your blanket. Would you like both?"

At Paulo's sleepy nod, he set to work, carefully pulling on the fuzzy red socks over his lover's feet, then gently tucking the weighted blanket over his long, lanky frame, being sure to get every bit of Paulo he could covered up. Then he kissed him gently on the forehead, assured him that he would be back in just a moment, and headed for the kitchen. 

As soon as he opened the door, however, one of his cats twined herself around his ankles, purring loudly. In a flash of inspiration, he bent and scooped her up, carrying her back to the bed and depositing her next to the blanket-covered mountain of Paulo, stroking her nose with a knuckle. As he had hoped, the brown tabby cat immediately snuggled close, kneading her paws softly against what Hugo thought was Paulo's arm, purring incessantly.

He hurried to the kitchen and back, eager to rejoin Paulo as quickly as he could. When he returned, he found Paulo's eyes open again, watching the little brown cat, who was now stretched out on top of Mount Paulo, still kneading her paws and purring madly.

Hugo chuckled. "Ah, good girl, Arwen," he murmured. "We have to take care of him, no?"

Paulo made a noise, low in his chest. It wasn't articulated enough to be a laugh, but Hugo recognised it anyway.

He sat on the bed next to Paulo. "Here, my love. I have water for you, and Paracetamol. Can you lift your head enough to take them?"

Hugo ended up holding Paulo, his chest cradling his marked-up back, before he was able to get him to swallow the painkillers. He kissed his neck and shoulders, covering with gentleness the same path he had before with roughness.

He coaxed Paulo into eating several bites of the bar of rich Belgian chocolate Hugo held up to his lips-- one of several that had been a gift from Jan-- as well as drinking a bit more water. Then Hugo laid him down again so that he could apply the cold packs he had brought from the kitchen to the largest of Paulo's bruises, and the aloe vera with lidocaine to the red, tender skin of his back and buttocks.

Finally Paulo gave a contented sigh, his head pillowed on his arms, nose to nose with Arwen, a peaceful smile on his face. Hugo lay behind him, stroking his hair, lips pressed to a spot at the very top of his neck, and whispering every endearment he could possibly remember in Spanish.

"Hugo?" Paulo breathed.

"Yes, _cariño?"_

"Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking you, no?"

"Maybe… but…"

"What is it, _mi alma?"_

"I just feel… you needed this."

 _"Oui,"_ Hugo admitted.

Paulo rolled over into his other side to face Hugo. "I like to take care of what you need too, you know. So… thank you for letting me do that."

Hugo's heart was in his throat as he leaned in to kiss Paulo over and over again.

"So tell me, _mon Capitaine,"_ Paulo whispered. "Tell me how you are feeling now."

Hugo sighed. He didn't want to spoil the sweetness of the afterglow. "Better," he offered.

"But?"

Hugo's lips twisted in a wry smile. He could rarely get away with obfuscation with Paulo. "The rage has gone. But now… now I am left with the shame, and it is almost worse," he admitted, his throat tight.

Paulo stroked his cheek. "We all have our challenges, no? All of us. Who do you know who has never had a bad day on the pitch, a game where nothing seems to go right?"

Hugo shook his head. "This was more than just that. I should not have a game like this. I brought the World Cup home last year, and nearly the Champions League title this year. But then I turn around and perform like this?" He shook his head again. His eyes were burning. "You should have been the one out there today. I am sure you would have done better."

 _"Mierda,"_ Paulo said flatly. "If I had been the one out there today, then I would be the one lying here thinking I have failed. It was not just you on the pitch today, no? There were ten other men out there with you?" He reached over and gently laced his fingers through Hugo's. "We are a team, all of us. When we win, we win together. And when we lose, well… we do that together too, for better or worse. You were not great today, no, but no more so than the defenders that let their men get to you. No more so than the midfield that could not keep the ball on the right end of the pitch. No more so than our strikers, who could not keep pace with Bayern's goalscoring. And no more so than Poch, who could not guide us to any solutions."

Paulo's face suddenly went blurry as the tears spilled down Hugo's face. He could not speak.

Paulo caressed his cheek gently, running his fingertips through Hugo's beard, stroking his cheekbones.

 _"Calma,"_ he whispered. _"Cierra tus ojos."_

Hugo closed his eyes, but the tears continued to slip from them all the same.

Paulo shifted his head to lay closer to Hugo, pressing their foreheads together. Hugo shivered as Paulo's fingers continued to stroke his face, so lightly, so delicately. He heard Paulo begin to hum and he immediately felt some of the tension leave him. There was nothing he loved more than when Paulo would sing for him.

Paulo began softly, hardly more than a whisper, breathing the words so quietly that even if the room had been full of people, no one could have heard him but Hugo.

_Acaricia mi ensueño  
El suave murmullo  
De tu suspirar  
Cómo ríe la vida  
Si tus ojos negros  
Me quieran mirar _

Hugo had to smile. The tears continued to come, but they were tears of joy now. 

_Y si es mío el amparo  
De tu risa leve  
Que es como un cantar  
Ella aquieta mi herida  
Todo, todo se olvida _

Hugo couldn't remember what all the lyrics meant, but it didn't matter. Paulo could be singing him a children's nursery rhyme and it would make no difference. This was a gift, as sweet as his submission, something that no one else could share.

_El día que me quieras  
Endulzará sus cuerdas  
El pájaro cantor  
Florecerá la vida  
No existirá el dolor. _

And it was true, Hugo realised, recalling what that final verse meant. With Paulo, it was impossible for pain to exist for long.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Écoutes - Listen  
> Putain - Fuck (literally _whore_ , but used in the same way as _fuck_ is in English as an exclamation)  
> Comment pourrais-je être si stupide putain? - How could I be so fucking stupid?  
> Comment puis-je être si putain d'inutile? - How could I be so fucking useless?  
> Qu'est ce que tu crois faire? - What do you think you're doing?  
> Allonge-toi, maintenant - Lie down, now  
> Lo siento, Capitán - I'm sorry, Captain  
> Por favor - Please  
> Pourquoi pas? - Why not?  
> Comment oses-tu? - How dare you?  
> Quiero - I want  
> Solo con tus manos - With your hands only  
> Êtes-tu sûr? - Are you sure?  
> Prometiste lastimarme, sí o no? - You promised to hurt me, yes or no?  
> Si c'est ce que tu veux, c'est bien - If that's what you want, then fine  
> Voulais-tu quelque chose? - Do you want something?  
> Dis moi ce que tu veux - Tell me what you want  
> Follame - Fuck me  
> Cariño - Sweetie  
> Mi alma - My soul  
> Mierda - Bullshit  
> Cierra tus ojos - Close your eyes
> 
> The song that Paulo sings for Hugo is El Día Que Me Quieras, an older, classic Argentinian love song. You can listen to it [here](https://youtu.be/0tGsHECwLWY) and find the translation of the lyrics [here](http://www.lyricstranslate.com/en/el-d%C3%ADa-que-me-quieras-day-when-you-will-love-me.html).
> 
> I love using details gleaned from various interviews to flesh out the story. Hugo being a cat man is from [this video](https://youtu.be/XXcdsEAuKEI). Paulo singing is from [this one](https://youtu.be/9VmfXQezQcg). Paulo's safeword is a reference to [this one](https://youtu.be/oUAHWcTZVcI), which may be my favorite video ever.
> 
> As always, I'm not going to pretend to be fluent in French or Spanish, especially Argentinian Spanish. If you spot something that's not right, please let me know!


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